


Third Hand Path

by sparklight



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, only it's Darth Vader this time, technically kidnappings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: One night, one day, one life; by these things you can change a whole galaxy.(Sometimes you just need to take a sledgehammer to a broken man's view of it first.)Alternately;When Luke is six, the Lars family helps a runaway slave, and gain a lot more in the bargain. By the time he's fourteen, they're taking their business into space.... They also kind of kidnap Darth Vader?
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 174
Kudos: 731





	1. You Snooze, You Lose

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will not be epic in scope so adjust your expectations of where it might end. If you want to see Vader take multiple hits to his soft parts in as short a time as possible, however, I am here for you~ I am also finished with the fic, so I'll post about one chapter a week (maybe slightly more, depending on, so I'll be finished posting it for the new year). :)
> 
> Trench is an OC, and as for Kix and Echo, something similar to their fates in the unreleased episodes of TCW happens, but not exactly, to get them to where they are in this AU.

Darth Vader woke up hovering inside a containment force field, electromagnetic cuffs further immobilizing him. The technology was well-preserved, but definitely old. The layout was clearly a cell, but stretching his awareness out told him this wasn't a prison on a planet. A ship, then. What had...

Ah.

The men in Clone Wars-era armour. He'd found the individuals disrupting the unpalatable but, as his Master described them "unfortunately necessary" slave transports as of late. They were clearly (mis)using the fact that the similarities between old Clone Wars-era armour, especially the armour used late in the war and the new Stormtrooper armour could be waved off as the commissioned armour for another, special force to get close enough to wreak their mischief. That ought not have led to this situation, but surprise could take even him. It rankled to admit, for it'd been so long he'd forgotten the possibility even existed. Hearing his old name and rank being addressed to someone else _had_ been an unforeseen shock though. Nothing made better by that the youth addressed so had over the holo looked all of fourteen or fifteen; wide-eyed and pale-haired, laughing the moniker of 'General Skywalker' off with obvious exasperated fondness. Had said "Echo, _stop that_. What if someone takes you seriously? Anyway, how's it---" 

That was when Vader had broken the holo, shocked fury overtaking him... and, in one of those rare moments where the Dark Side hindered more than it helped, swamped his mind with that and only that, so he'd missed the electro-bomb that'd been tossed at his feet.

That, then, had led to _this_. Perhaps this was for the best, though. Not only could he deal with this group, since that was why he'd found them at all (what fools they were, to bring him on board), he would have the truth, too. Clenching his hands until the leather creaked, Vader ignored the distant protest of mechanical joints and servo motors, ignored the more acute throbbing in his head for the lingering flame of fury. How dare they use that name, that rank, for someone else? Anakin Skywalker was dead in all but physical flesh, and even if one could perhaps expect some surviving clones (must be, "Echo" had sounded familiar enough, though the helmet had hidden any proof that this would be the Echo who was supposed to have died during their rescue attempt on Lola Sayu) to cling to the past...

It did not instill any patience or sympathy in Darth Vader.

It felt like he was being mocked, having that rank and name addressed to such a wide-eyed, clearly foolish _child_. Aside from that, them bringing him on board would merely make it all the easier to deal with them and succeed in his mission. The thought brought grim satisfaction, let Vader focus enough to stretch out again, to get a better feel of the ship and the number of people onboard. Vader hadn't reached far before he brushed against something thoroughly unexpected, considering the totality of the Jedi Order's destruction and his Master's efforts in removing any children born that could be a threat to him.

Someone trained in the Force.

Wild, swirling blankness met him, bright as a sun but strangely unfocused, and when he tried to push _in_ , to find out more, Darth Vader found himself staring at the doors of the cell, the throbbing in his head now a headache despite the automatically administered painkillers. He'd been slammed away not unlike the concussive burn of a blaster bolt, which had been so unexpected he hadn't known to defend against it. There were, of course, many ways for a trained Force sensitive to protect themselves from the mental probing of another, but the Jedi favoured a response that felt a lot less... concussive, and Sith teachings were not nearly so temporary in their methods.

This had been swift, unhesitating reaction, but then nothing further after than that. Jedi-like in its own peculiar way, but entirely unlike a properly trained Jedi.

As curious as this was, it didn't much change what he was here to do. It would merely give him one more thing to report to his Master when he was back on Coruscant. Currently, the largest obstacle to getting this mission finished as quickly as possible was the cuffs and the containment field... The doors to the cell hissed open just then, interrupting his planning, and Darth Vader found himself staring down at the young boy who'd been addressed as 'General Skywalker'. 

He wasn't surprised, really. Just further enraged.

"What did you do?" The boy looked as annoyed as intrigued as he stomped up to stand in front of the raised containment field, arms crossed over his chest and chin jutting out. His floppy mop of pale, presumably blond, hair looked like it could do with a comb, and he couldn't have been in space for too long. There was a quality to the coloured overlay of red on his skin that showed proof of having spent a lot of time up until recently planet-side, in full sunlight.

"Who trained you?" Vader countered with ill-tempered irritability, and was further aggravated by being unable to hook his hands around his belt or cross his arms over his chest. Though, the fact that that would mirror the child's pose was another layer to the insult this whole set-up was. The boy's expression turned exasperated.

"What does _that_ matter? What were you tryi---"

" _Who trained you_?" Vader thundered, thoroughly done with this foolish youngling. He only needed to know so he'd know who might have escaped Order 66 and his own intermittent Jedi survivor hunts - sometimes those also unearthed the now-hidden smaller collections of groups who used the Force but weren't affiliated with the Jedi or Sith. Those were also duly exterminated, of course. There was no satisfaction in watching the boy jump, but despite the added edge of wariness now clinging to his narrow shoulders and the narrowing of his eyes, the boy neither backed away nor left the cell.

"... my friends, though it wasn't exactly tr---"

" _Who_?" snarling, Vader pinned the boy with a glare, hands tightening into fists again, and though the child of course could not see the glare directly, he, like anyone, felt the weight of it. The look the child gave him was one that Darth Vader would honestly never have expected to find aimed at him, though somewhere it felt like Obi-Wan might be laughing at him. A thought quickly burned and buried, but undeniable, for the childish exasperation was one that said 'are you stupid, or what?' Apparently the answer was supposedly so clear anyone who didn't get it had just missed a fundamental fact of the universe.

"... the clones? Here on the ship? You know they're clones, right? They've seen Jedi work." He shrugged, and Vader was as aggravated as he was flabbergasted.

"That is not---"

"Possible?" the boy said, smugness like heat-haze around him, as if, again, Vader was proving very stupid, missing something obvious. "Well, if you'd let me finish, I'd have said it wasn't exactly _training_. I mean, I guess it was, but not in the way you probably mean it?"

An easy shrug, the child waving the whole impossible situation away. Non-Force sensitives, training someone Force sensitive in _using the Force_? It was ridiculous. It was _preposterous_ , and yet... The clones had been around Jedi, had seen them work the Force for three years. They couldn't explain _how_ , no, but they knew a small amount of _what_. They'd apparently been able to bridge the gap between 'what' and 'how' in a way this child had been able to learn _something_ of the Force.

Well enough for an unorthodox method of shielding, proficient enough to answer mental intrusion with a laser bolt-like force and quickness, ending said attempted intrusion.

Vader, staring down at this boy, this 'General Skywalker', wasn't sure whether that said more about the boy's skill and strength in the Force or the clones' ability to teach something they didn't even understand.

"So, what did you---" The child cut himself off, looking over his shoulder and turned back with a frown. "Gotta go."

And then he _waved_ , like there was no fear in him, like he had no idea who Darth Vader was and could do, or perhaps he just didn't care, and darted out of the cell. A minute or two later, while Vader was still trying to process this whole ridiculous and strange interaction, a clone came in. 

Or, not really _a clone_. 

It was more than that. It was a clone Vader specifically recognized, much like with the maybe-Echo. Darth Vader stared down at Kix, and the sense of unreality that hadn't reared its head when he heard his rank and name earlier now descended. He'd have thought he was in the past if that, too, wasn't possible and he didn't have reliable reports of what he now knew were Clone Wars-era armoured men disrupting imperial slave transports. Might have still believed such a ridiculous impossibility if it weren't for the neatly shaved shadow of white on Kix's dark jaw and chin, the shadow of the same on top of his skull, the lines on his face. It still left him feeling haunted by the past in more than one way.

"Right, we'll keep this short," Kix said, looking distinctly more uncomfortable than the boy had, "do you need medical attention? I couldn't do much to check how badly the electro-bomb had affected you. And do you need food and water?"

"No." 

The temperature in the room had plummeted, and Vader didn't need to be able to put his hands on his belt or cross them over his chest to instill as much quiet menace in his denial of the offer as was humanly and Force-assistedly possible. He would have no one opening him up in these circumstances, not even, or maybe _especially_ so, when it was Kix. Even if such a thing might give him the chance he needed to end this, he needed... to find out more, about that child. How the clones had managed to teach him the Force. It didn't matter, truly, but it presented an unexpected hurdle in his Master's order. If someone who wasn't Force sensitive could teach someone who _was_ , merely with the knowledge of at least some of the things possible, then they would have to work even harder on destroying and collecting any stray information on Jedi, Sith or unaffiliated knowledge of the Force. Taking the child with him after having killed everyone else on board and interrogating him back on Mustafar was a perfectly viable course of action, but it would hardly inconvenience or hurt him to stay here, like this, and see if he couldn't find out more by remaining as he was. It might get him the information he sought more easily, if he appeared subdued and safely contained.

Kix eyed him like the medical professional in him wanted to press, while the rest of him clearly would rather leave Darth Vader alone to hang right where he was. The latter won out.

"Good. Have a good ni---"

"Who is the boy?"

Kix whirled around with surprising agility for someone so aged, but Vader wasn't truly surprised. It merely proved the quality of the Kaminoans' work, despite the premature ageing that'd been programmed in.

"What?" He was holding a blaster, now, though it wasn't raised to point at Vader. Firing it without lowering the containment field would do nothing, after all, and lowering the containment field would give Vader a chance to escape.

"The boy in the holo," Vader said, the rumble of his modulated voice a sly threat, coaxing. It served him not to tell Kix the boy had just been in here; if they found that out, the boy would undoubtedly be better guarded and kept away from their dangerous prisoner. Kix, to his frustration, didn't take either his bait or threat.

"General Skywalker, of course," he said with taunting nonchalance, and then left - though not even his projected cloak of ease could hide the tension in his shoulders and spine. Good. Not that that gave Vader any answers, but he had a feeling that if he was just a little patient, they'd come to him.

Quite literally, in fact.

Hours later, quite deep into the night-cycle, the cell door whispered open again and admitted the slender figure of the incongruously Force-trained boy back inside. Darth Vader and this impossible boy stared at each other for a couple silent moments, the boy swaying on his heels. He was dressed in a thermo-layer undersuit, stripped of the casual spacer's pants, homespun shirt and a jacket that had signs of being the latest fashion among a certain cadre of youth that he'd been wearing earlier. _General_? Hardly. What did a child like this know about directing troops? Still, his potential in the Force was clear as day, though the curious shield was firmly in place, shielding the boy even when it hid nothing of the power used. It was curious though, for the sense of the shield bled out into the echo of the Force itself, making it easy to bypass as long as one wasn't concentrating on the child directly.

"So what did you do?"

The same question as earlier, and Vader scowled, impatience grating on his nerves and a headache that was finally fading, though some needle of pain remained - as often, for painkillers the suit administered never took the pain away completely.

" _What_ are you talking about, boy?" That Vader didn't ask the child what his name was as he'd planned was honestly more a fluke from his confused annoyance of the child asking that question _again_ than anything calculated. To be sure, the boy's identity undoubtedly mattered little, but the mocking awareness of 'General Skywalker' echoing in his head as he looked down on the child could not be ignored. No effort in merely thinking of him as _the boy_ could erase that, and whether he killed him soon or, as was perhaps possible with the potential in evidence and some training to build upon, however inadequate, he took him with him against his Master, he needed another name.

"When you... touched me? with the Force earlier. How did you do that? _What_ did you do?"

How did he _not_ \--- But no. Staring down at the child, Vader realized it made some amount of sense, that he wouldn't know. The clones had seen the outwards-facing things the Jedi could do with the Force, and had undoubtedly taught the boy thoroughly in those skills, and certain soldier skills and mindset might allow for the boy to learn some type of shielding and mental protection. There was more to it than that, though. A lot more. Things they then couldn't have taught this child, because what they hadn't seen they couldn't teach. It at least lent some credibility to the boy's insistence that the clones had taught him.

"Tell me your name, and I might teach you." Demanding the boy tell him without adding bait would probably have the child refusing out of spite, but adding something he clearly wanted to know... 

The boy frowned, arms crossed over his chest again, emphasizing the lean, but surprisingly toned shape of them. The child had clearly grown up doing labour, and might still be training physically as well. Considering his guardians seemed to be a shipful of clones, he could see them make sure a child in their charge was both in good health and fit. They knew nothing else, after all.

"What does it matter?"

It was... very, very hard to push down the flare of impatient fury, the _offense_ at such a willful ignoring of what he was demanding in favour of _more_ questions. The weight of his glower in response was clearly noted, for the child steeled himself, chin jutting out again.

"Your guardians may call you _General Skywalker_ , boy, but I will not."

The child flushed slightly, somewhere between embarrassment and awkwardly pleased at hearing that name, and Vader tightened a hand into a fist, the metal of the cuff creaking but not breaking just yet.

"It's kinda silly, isn't it?" The boy laughed, embarrassment clearly winning out, but his smile was easy and relaxed. It was as curious as it was grating to have this child be so sure in Vader's containment that he felt so at ease to be open like this. "I said I should be 'commander', if they had to call me anything but using my name, but..."

A shrug, the smile lingering for a moment longer. Then he straightened up, his young voice ringing in the small metal chamber. 

"Luke Skywalker."

One of the cuffs whined, spat static, and then a loud pop echoed through the room as the mechanism for generating the electro-magnetism broke. The child skittered backwards several steps, though he stopped himself before he hit the wall beside the door.

"Do not lie to me, boy," Vader growled, the usual thunder of his voice turned into a superheated slide of lava, low and hot. Another cuff gave up the ghost, but as satisfying as that was, it wouldn't help him against the containment field.

"It's not a _lie_!" Fury, young, innocent and _true_ , bloomed up between them, and Vader could not deny that the boy certainly believed what he was saying... and the Force insisted on truth as well. 

But that could not be right. It _could not_. She was dead, had been for fourteen years, and the child had died with her! 

"My father was Anakin Skywalker! I thought he was a navigator on a spice freighter before, but the first clone we helped said he _wasn't_ , and Uncle Owen had to admit he'd been lying."

The child - _Luke_ \- was now nearly nose to humming force field, cheeks flushed with anger, eyes bright in challenge and with the absolute weight of truth in his voice, his words. 

The Force rang with it.

It was not a lie.


	2. Fight the Powers That Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How's Luke's end of the conversation? And, what have Luke and his family been doing since he was little? Have a glimpse of that, as well as a whole bunch of clones (and the rest of his family and guardians) being very irritable with Luke's Choices.

Still shaking with anger, Luke stared up at Darth Vader and realized he hadn't actually considered the consequences of blowing up at _Darth Vader_. Sure, the black-armoured enforcer was behind a containment field, which did offer Luke some safety, but... still. Taking a deep breath and recentering himself, he backed off. Didn't get far and looked up in alarm at the sound of yet another cuff failing. He was going to have to admit he'd been in here, wasn't he? Vader wouldn't reveal the cuffs were now broken, but it wouldn't be safe to let everybody think they were still functioning. He was going to have to tell.

Accepting the inevitability of that, Luke warily studied the hulking behemoth of a man, who just before had brimmed with barely leashed anger and something cold, like the infinite weight of a black hole. Now there was... nothing, really. The darkly cold pressure was still there; he was just barely aware of it as close as he still was to Vader, but it didn't feel as sharp anymore. There was one gloved hand held just beyond the forcefield, avoiding the retaliation of the energy contained in it.

"Stay."

Luke shuddered at the dark demand, but was confused over what seemed to be a nearly _pleading_ tone. Hearing such a thing from Darth Vader was weird enough, but why he'd want him to stay at all was equally confusing. Squaring his shoulders, Luke smiled, if a little hesitantly.

"Well, you haven't told me what you did, and how, yet, so I can't leave, right?"

He really did want to know. Echo, Kix and the others had all been clear that they couldn't know everything there was of the Force. They'd taught him as well as they could, taught him with methods more geared towards thinking about it as a weapon, a shield or a tool, but it'd worked out great in Luke's opinion. He knew a lot, and all of them ways that made the Force a natural extension of himself in practical circumstances, and when he needed it... Like when they had attacked Jabba, or on these 'missions' to free slaves. It just couldn't be everything there was to know, as Vader had just proven. And maybe Luke shouldn't be listening to the Emperor's enforcer for tips on how to use the Force, but he figured, if he didn't like it, he didn't need to use it, or could rework it. That's what you did when you had a tool that wasn't _exactly_ what you needed and had no way to get the exact right tool for what you wanted to do; you jury-rigged one or altered an old tool.

But there was something that niggled...

"I know my father's dead," Luke said, frowning and watched Vader stiffen with the words, "but why would I be lying 'bout him being my dad?"

Now that he'd been travelling the galaxy for half a year, Luke couldn't avoid noticing (had had more than one of the clones say he should be careful _who_ he revealed his father's name to) that harbouring Jedi, their teachings or things, being _suspected_ of being a Jedi, was A Very Bad thing. Not that it'd mattered much on Tatooine, but even Anchorhead sometimes got Stormtroopers passing by, so Luke could, maybe, admit that his aunt and uncle claiming his father had been a navigator hadn't been _such_ a dumb idea. But why a _navigator_? Couldn't he at least have been a pilot, like he clearly had been?

"... Jedi were forbidden to have families," Vader said, his voice a distant echo of a rumble, like it was a rote response. It sounded like the sort of thing one said to hide something else, but, as Luke frowned and mentally prodded at the statement, he couldn't find anything wrong with it. Kix had said something similar, an explanation to why he was so surprised Luke existed at all, and the Force didn't feel that slithery sort of way that it did when someone was blatantly lying.

It was the truth. Was it the _whole_ truth? Luke had no way to know, but why wouldn't it be? A little frustrated, he shrugged and pushed that away for now.

"Where---" Vader cut himself off, helmet still angled down at Luke but the intensity of his hidden gaze seemed to soften, much in the same way his vocoder-enhanced voice turned... fuzzy, almost, dark but soft, with the answer just now, going distant, elsewhere. "Tatooine."

There was nothing distant about _that_ , though, and Luke shuddered, then stomped close again.

"How'd you know that?" Would he have to warn Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru? Would they - and everyone else - be okay there, if Vader knew where he was from? But... what did that matter? He was a nobody, even if he was the son of Anakin Skywalker, great Jedi general of the Clone Wars. There was no reason to go to Tatooine.

"I..." Silence. Even Vader's regulated breathing seemed to fall quiet. "Skywalker... was known to come from Tatooine. And no one goes looking for anything on Tatooine."

Something about that was a lie, or at least _part of it_ was a lie, but it was a muddled sort of thing, and Luke had no idea how to call it out; it might just be his own emotions, wary about any danger to his family and everyone else on Tatooine, than it was actually about a lie. Vader might also just stop talking if he accused him of lying, too. The latter half was definitely not a lie, though.

"Right," Luke said slowly, not quite able to smother his suspicion, but he really shouldn't be hanging around for too long, and he still had a question he wanted answered. "So, how _did_ you do that thing?"

Maybe this time he'd actually get an answer.

Vader stared down at him, silent for long enough Luke shifted in impatience and opened his mouth - a static-laced noise of _something_ came from Vader, interrupting him.

"For having been taught as you have, your skill is considerable. But the Force exists outside of you, Skywalker. _Reach out_. Connect with it."

What? He touched things outside of him _all the time_! Did Vader think he couldn't lift things or something? Disgruntled, Luke didn't get a chance to lodge his complaint at this esoteric explanation as the cell door swooshed open, admitting far more people into the cell than it could comfortably hold in a thunder of feet, and a lot of weapons pointed at Vader despite the containment field still there.

" _Luke_!"

"Uh---" Flushing, Luke squirmed in the face of the mix of relieved anger in the cry, in the faces around him (all both very different and exactly the same) and let himself be escorted out.

"What do you think you're doing? Didn't we _tell you_ \---"

"'Not to go into Darth Vader's cell', yeah, I _know_! You said that several times, Echo." Guilt bled over into exasperation. "I was only going to do it once, I promise! I needed to know how he touched me through the Force earlier today!"

The number of clones around him slowly dispersed until there was Echo, Kix and Trench in a loose formation around him. Luke was pretty sure they hadn't even noticed they were doing it, which was both a little funny and sad at the same time. Before, when he was younger, it'd only been funny. After Aunt Beru had gently reprimanded him for it, though, he'd slowly started thinking about it. The clones were more than the military knowledge imprinted in them, far, far more, but that it was still lodged so deep, so many years after the Clone Wars... yeah, that wasn't exactly funny.

"He did that?" Deep suspicion and tension coated Trench's grumbling rumble as the one-eyed clone looked over his shoulder, hefting his heavy-duty blaster once more, and Luke shook his head.

"I pushed him away, it's _fine_. I just needed to know _how_ he did it." Which he still wasn't sure about, but maybe it was connected to lifting things, to getting inklings when someone was nearby... things like that? He needed to sit down and actually think it over. At least there didn't seem to be anything inherently awful about the way Vader had described what he needed to do. Not that... there necessarily was anything wrong with how Vader used the Force, Luke admitted, but the things he used it to do... it just felt that should be reflected in the Force, and the way Darth Vader felt in the Force, Luke didn't think he was wrong. There was _something_ darkly twisted about the man (if that was what he was, that was).

" _Was_ it worth it, General Skywalker?" Echo didn't sound as tense, now, his expression wavering between a frown and reluctant acceptance of Force shenanigans. Luke rolled his eyes, feeling something unwind in his shoulders.

"Well, I got _some_ sort of answer, so I think so. And, um. He broke three of the four cuffs..." Grimacing in the face of grim frustration on three identical and yet extremely different faces, Luke shrugged a little helplessly.

"Should just _sp_ \---"

"We're _not_ spacing Darth Vader, Trench!" Luke felt like he'd been arguing this point all day. At least Kix made a soft noise of agreement behind him. "Or executing him! If you'd killed him while trying to capture him, that'd have been different..." Frowning until Trench's sour expression softened into an acquiescing sigh which pulled on his snow-white goatee, Luke relaxed.

"Here's your stop, General." Echo squeezed his shoulder and gently shoved him through the door to his cabin, and Luke gave a wave, but didn't miss the look the three clones gave each other right before the door closed. It was okay, though. He knew they wouldn't actually kill Vader behind his back, even if the question of what they would be doing _instead_ was then a lot harder to answer. Nothing to think about right now, though. He'd focus on the Force thing, and...

Glancing over to the computer on the small desk in the corner, Luke crossed the room to lean against it, waking it up so he could check the program he had that kept track of the time on Tatooine in comparison to the galactic standard cycle the ship used. Early afternoon. Uncle Owen wouldn't be home yet, but Aunt Beru would be. Next time he'd have to call later, or early enough he could catch both of them, but in the meantime, he just wanted to make sure Aunt Beru knew to be on the lookout, just to be safe. Even if they hadn't even _done anything_ about Darth Vader yet, and Vader could contact no one about... What, anyway? Just because the son of Anakin Skywalker had grown up on Tatooine, what would that matter to the Empire?

Either way he would not tell her they had _Darth Vader_ on the ship. Luke was pretty sure whenever the clones on the ground found out, they wouldn't tell his aunt and uncle either. It wouldn't help them to know. Shrugging, Luke sat down at the desk since it had the cabin's holo suite as well, and sent through a call, smiling as it was picked up on the other end by his aunt.

"Hi, Aunt Beru!"

"Luke!" She smiled, bright and warm, and Luke's chest heated with it, further tension easing out of him. As great as what he was getting to do now was, he _did_ miss his aunt and uncle. "How are you doing out there? You're being safe, aren't you?"

Sighing, he rolled his eyes, but a reluctant smile fought its way onto his face as well.

"You can ask Echo and Kix. They only let me go on one of the raids if they're sure it'll be as safe as it can be, or let me only help with the parts that won't put me in direct danger."

Or shouldn't, anyway. Sometimes things just _happened_ after all. Besides, as much as Luke thought it unfair he wasn't allowed to do more considering what he knew now of his father and his padawan and what _she_ had been doing during the war, he was still doing more than his aunt and uncle would undoubtedly be comfortable with.

"Good," Aunt Beru said with a sigh, though there was something in her expression that told Luke she knew he wasn't being entirely truthful, "the harvest is going well, of course. With these many hands, it's impossible for it not to."

They both laughed about that, but once it wouldn't have been such a laughing matter. Before all this started, it'd been only the three of them, and while the harvest was usually enough for them and a little more to sell to boost them for the next season, it wasn't ever a lot. Luke still couldn't believe so much had changed from a lucky chance of spotting someone clearly trying to remain hidden - and really, even at six Luke had known enough to let certain people he saw at a distance alone. It was safer for everyone that way, and he and his aunt and uncle made sure there were supplies for those people to take on their way to freedom. But that time he'd _known_ there'd be a sandstorm, so he simply couldn't just let the man die out in it.

They'd helped Kix as much as he'd helped himself, at first with the chip and then both around the homestead as he stayed past the sandstorm and then with a couple other escaping slaves as well and... Well. Funny how things could change from such a simple thing, sometimes.

"We also had a couple visitors landing two days ago, they're on their way now after being set up the best we could." Aunt Beru smiled, in that soft, small way that always crept out when they were able to help escaping slaves, and Luke grinned, pretty sure he knew where that batch had come from. _Good_. "And while there was some trouble up in Mos Eisley, the troop assured me they had it handled."

The troop. Luke grinned at the way his aunt talked about the clones, since even if they certainly were a _troop_ , still, she did not mean it in the sense of an armed group, but just a group of people tightly knit together. Mention of trouble had him sobering up though, even if the potential trouble he was thinking of wasn't anything like what they'd been dealing with for months now back on Tatooine.

"Aunt Beru? Make sure everyone stays on alert, okay? I don't think it'll be anything, but if that changes, I'll give you another call about it."

She frowned, but didn't press, just nodded. She knew well enough some of Luke's comments didn't come with more information, or time frames so she'd accepted that there wasn't anything more to get even if she asked. Which, okay, probably made it maybe a _little_ wrong to ride on that to hide the fact that this wasn't one of his Force-assisted hunches, just very mundane worry from a very physical source. She didn't need to know that, though.

"Thank you, Luke. Now, how late is it?"

She knew how late it was. Luke smiled, a lopsided, wide thing, and rubbed the back of his neck, but knew that was his cue to behave. At least for now. He was lucky he got to be out here at all, got to fly one of those little fighters that Kix kept on the ship, and he knew very well that if his aunt and uncle hadn't agreed and he'd sneaked onboard, he would've been taken back.

"Uh, late enough I should be in bed? Good night, Aunt Beru."

"Good night, Luke."

### 

Later that night, curled up in bed next to Owen, Beru sighed, smiling a little despite the cooling sensation of melancholia in her chest.

"Luke seems to be doing very well, but I'm missing having him _right here_." She missed... so many things. Not that he was gone forever - they'd been back for a week two months ago, after all, and would be back again later - but it was certainly not the same thing. Owen grunted, tightening his arm around her.

"Still not convinced it's a good idea. No one can repair the vaporators and droids like he can."

Beru laughed, gently elbowing her husband. "You've seen the way he's been glowing ever since, and they're making sure he keeps up with his schooling along with the... more unorthodox lessons. He's brilliant, Owen, and needs a bit of a challenge, just like his parents... and look what he's doing now. It's _good_."

"It's also _dangerous_!" grumbling, Owen settled. "But it _is_ good. Why it couldn't have been enough what we're doing here, though..."

"Do you really think he would have been able to stop with Tatooine?"

"Too much of his---"

Beru's amusement at the predictable comment, as well as the comment itself, was interrupted by the chime from the portable holo recorder they used, and Owen quickly reached out to snatch it up, sharing a glance with Beru. Surely things hadn't gone bad so quickly? It wasn't who they expected it to be on the other end of the holo, though.

" _Ben_?" Surprise, as well as relief - more reluctantly from Owen, but he hardly wanted the man so ill he didn't wish him to stay safe. And with it being practically _years_ between each message he had been able to send them since he had to leave Tatooine, the relief was undeniable for both husband and wife.

"Owen, Beru. I'm pleased to see you well." Obi-Wan Kenobi looked somewhat haggard, but he'd done so for years, even past the harsh treatment Tatooine gave all her inhabitants. "I wanted to check - has something changed on Tatooine? I've been able to stay in the same place for more than half a year, now, and that hasn't happened since I had to leave."

Owen and Beru shared a glance, eyebrows rising up. But it made sense - they'd always known it was Jabba, annoyed at Obi-Wan's perhaps less-than-careful dealings with the Hutt's business, who had leaked that there was a Jedi on Tatooine to relevant Imperial sources. That time, shortly after Luke's ninth birthday, had been the only time their little planet had seen so many Imperial Star Destroyers and had had Darth Vader land.

Luckily Ben had left the night before, slipping past the blockade before it even existed. This was just confirmation that Jabba's grudge had lasted beyond Tatooine. Confirmation that he'd had spent time, credits and resources on repeatedly finding Obi-Wan and leaking his new location to the Empire, for _years_.

"Luke and the troop finally put their plan in motion, around planting last year."

There was no need to say any more; Obi-Wan had been aware of the clones slowly amassing around the Lars' homestead and in Anchorhead, the extra bodies as much extra protection as concern, but he hadn't been able to decide whether to risk revealing himself. Considering the potential danger from the clones attacking him, even if it was an unreasonable concern so long after the genocide of the Jedi had happened, it'd lingered... Admittedly, he'd wanted to turn back and snatch up Luke after he realized the number of clones around him, but he hadn't had the chance. It'd also apparently hadn't been necessary, but then, while Luke was Force sensitive, he wasn't a _Jedi_. Ben had either way been kept in the loop after he left, even when every talk came very far from the next.

" _That_ plan? That was a child's fancy!" Obi-Wan groaned, loudly and with more open feeling than Owen and Beru had seen from him aside from very early on after he'd come with Luke to them. "... it succeeded, then?"

"Succeeded?" Owen grunted, exasperation and pride blending together into the nearly explosive sound. "They dealt with Jabba first, and worked their way outwards from there. Lives... were lost, of course, but..."

"Slavery exists only in the most shadowy of corners of Tatooine, now, and those corners get more lit with every passing month," Beru finished Owen's sentence quietly, pride and a little wonder, still, at this development, suffusing her voice. "Luke then wanted to do something about it _off Tatooine_ , more than what Echo and some of the others have done to get more of their own. We were hesitant to let him go with, but with Tatooine now as secure as it probably can be against the Hutts, they did want to extend their reach as well as hoping to do something about the... supply lines. So it seemed safer to know he was with them and wouldn't try to sneak off every time they visited, and he doesn't have any _less_ eyes on him, now." Beru smiled at that, relieved. Luke could still undoubtedly get in trouble, but she didn't feel he was any less safe out there, in general, than he might be at home. Though now with Jabba dealt with, even with the greater Hutt Cartels holding a possible grudge, Tatooine was undoubtedly at least a little safer.

"... You mean he's _out there_ , right now?"

"Now you sound like Owen, Ben," Beru chided, and watched the two men share a reluctant glance, and Owen, undoubtedly having figured out what she was going to say, didn't stop her from saying it, "he's perfectly safe, even with his tendency to get in trouble. But if you want to come home, they should be back in a couple months at the very latest."

"... I might do that, yes," Obi-Wan said slowly, a thoughtful, distant expression settling on his face as he stroked his beard.


	3. Going Back For Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's Echo and Luke, the clones making a decision they don't like, and Vader reacting to the reveal... plus getting hit with something he doesn't like.

Luke ducked, parried, slashed.

Slowly and deliberately, much slower than a hypothetical real duel or fight would look like, but that wasn't _just_ because Echo might have had issues to keep up otherwise - he might not be very good with their mock swords, but he was passable and not _slow_. Certainly his prosthetics gave him some advantage contrary to his brothers. No, the point was to force Luke to think about what he was doing. Not that any of them really could've taught the kid lightsaber techniques, and who fought with _swords_ otherwise?

They did their best, on the off-chance Luke would find or get (or build, if there were instructions to find) a lightsaber some day. If only to honour what most of them had helped destroy, however unwillingly.

"Obstacle course!" Echo shouted, and Luke jerked in the middle of his feint, almost tripping himself. Echo pretended not to grin. "Obstacle course, three minutes, Luke. Clock's ticking!"

The kid shot him a grimace and shot off like oil down a heated slide of metal. It was, quite frankly, terrifying to look at - and nostalgic. He was so fast, and with the powered jumps, the obstacle course could've been cleared in no time at all. Luke wasn't allowed to just leap clear over more than one obstacle at a time though. That wasn't the point. Luke was still flashing through a course that would've taken any one of them at least six minutes to do when they were young and in their prime, and now took closer to ten minutes, on average.

With a thump, Luke landed on front of him with a wild grin, sweat beading at his temples but his breathing deep and even, and Echo clapped him on the nearest shoulder.

"Two forty-five. Great job."

Luke fairly _glowed_ , his smugness softened by genuine happiness at having beat his best result so far, and Echo was reminded of the first time Luke had managed to react with more speed than was humanly and without Force assistance possible. 

He'd been... what, nine? and they'd finally repaired the used Skyhopper bought for his birthday. When informed they were done, Luke had practically _flown_ across the central pit and into the garage, and then he hadn't gotten out to fly until everyone's excitement over his feat had died down. Luke had learned to float things relatively quickly, not long after they started to try to help him touch the Force in whatever way their suggestions could. Kix had been the one to strike upon the needed way to phrase it while teaching the kid to shoot with a smaller blaster compared to the slug-throwing rifles Luke's uncle kept on the homestead; a weapon, and a weapon to be used only when intentionally intended to shoot at something. Or, in that case, only used when Luke wanted to float something. Pull your weapon from its holster (reach inside and outwards), then fire (grab onto it). It'd proven useful for the less straightforward skills too, even if it took Luke a while to fine-tune even just floating one small item and progress from there. The whole thing had still taken a lot more time than all of them were sure it should take, but they _had_ been trying to both be careful as well as teach Luke something none of them were able to do. All they had to go by was what they'd seen.

"Definitely making your parents proud," Echo said, and hoped that was true. He couldn't see Senator Amidala or General Skywalker _not_ be proud of their son, though.

"You think so?" Luke said with a lopsided, slightly flushed smile, and Echo chuckled. A lot more humble than his father... and, honestly, his mother as well, though. (Sure, it was a guess who Luke's mother was, but it was a guess that was very educated after Luke's existence had been revealed. _Who else_ would it be?)

"As proud as your flying would make them, to be sure. C'mon, I bet you want a shower." Echo slung an easy arm around Luke's shoulders and pulled him with him. They put the training swords away, and it was _almost_ like they didn't have the most dangerous guest in the galaxy housed on the ship. They were still in hyperspace, as they'd jumped straight to it after the surprising encounter with _Darth Vader_ (after finishing what they were there for, of course). Echo just wondered if they shouldn't have made a shorter jump, somewhere to put their young General Skywalker as well as the freed slaves safely while they decided how to deal with Vader.

Nothing for it right now, however.

Even _less_ for it when they met Kix and Trench halfway back to the ship's living quarters, and Luke, of course, immediately knew where they were going. Or rather, to who.

"Can I---"

"Why?" Trench crossed his arms over his chest, asking the question that was on Echo's mind and on Kix's most definitely as well. Trench's glower didn't, of course, discourage Luke. The kid knew them too well, and besides, he never let initial refusal, imminent or actual, stop him when there was something he wanted and thought he should, or could, have. Nature and nurture being what they were, _that_ part was something Echo knew didn't come from his aunt and uncle. Definitely his parents. _Both_ of them, going by what they knew (admittedly not much) of Padmé Amidala.

"I..." Luke paused, a frown slowly stealing over his face and his gaze falling to the floor, "... not sure?"

That was a surprising answer, for usually the kid had _some_ sort of reason, and here he was, instead, hesitating. Could be for the mere thrill of being in the presence of the Emperor's shadowy enforcer, but in that case - if that was phrasing and justification Luke would even use - he would either have said so or hidden it with other reasoning. The three of them shared a look, frowning now as well. Would it be better to refuse, exactly _because_ of this rather uncharacteristic hesitation, or was that all the more reason to give in?

"What's your feeling about it, General?" Echo finally asked, tiptoeing around his guess as he rubbed the shoulder joint that, despite many fixes and tunings by both Kix and Luke, always started to complain and grind shortly after he'd exercised. Luke looked up again, blue eyes wide and thankful, and the kid who looked so much like his father also clearly wasn't like their former general at all, gawky uncertainty hanging about him still. If they'd known more to teach, maybe he wouldn't have these moments, but they did what they could.

"It... feels important? I don't know," Luke said, shaking his head and now torn between a sheepish smile and frustration, "it's not a warning at all, it's just like everything is... heavy? in that direction." Luke tossed his head down the corridor, but at a slight angle - Echo would bet if they checked the ship's plan, that'd be the direction of Vader's cell.

"... Is he trying to touch you? Like you said he did yesterday?" Kix's frown was deep, now, and only eased up marginally when Luke shook his head.

"What? No! He hasn't, not since that first time! Besides, it doesn't _feel_ like Vader does."

They all fell silent at that, staring at Luke until he squirmed, ducking his head.

"What? I figured out... how to do what he was doing, that's all. Everyone on the ship feels slightly different," Luke grumbled quietly, hands deep in his pockets while he swayed a little on his feet, all long-limbed teenage gawkiness offset by the lean muscles of both farm work and the physical training they put their 'General' through.

Kix sighed, Echo smiled wryly and Trench dragged a hand down over his mouth and chin, mostly hiding the grimace.

"Fine," Trench grunted, and looked away from Luke as he snapped upright, startled and pleased, "but you don't go any closer than halfway into the cell. And _shower_ first, we'll wait."

Luke thundered off, and the three of them shared another look.

"This better be the right decision," Trench muttered, and Echo shook his head.

"Look, we all know what'd happen - he'd go in there alone, _again_. This is better."

### 

The child on board was his son.

She had died, but the child had survived, and he was on board this ship.

The thoughts had hooked together and gone on loop since the boy - _Luke_ \- had been escorted out of the cell by his protective cadre of clones. Now that the moment had come and gone, seeing so many clones in place - older, but still recognizable, some of them - had been a surprise. Not that Vader lingered on that part of this situation. It was of minimal importance. He'd complete his mission and leave with his son, and that was all there was to it, and regret didn't feature into the thought process. Still, he couldn't say he was... displeased, at the idea of Luke being surrounded by clones who clearly knew who he was, and were appropriately protective. He could still preferably go another fourteen years before ever hearing 'General Skywalker' uttered by anyone again.

She had died, but the boy had lived, and was within reach. It was a reverberating echo in his mind, in the Force. _His_ son. One of the reasons for all this, and now it would all have proven worth it beyond the necessary order that had been instilled - was, of course, still a work in progress, for there were things that could be better. 

Breathing hurt, though there was no difference to how his respirator was working now compared to yesterday. It was a phantom pain, weak with emotions Darth Vader quickly burned away with the rage of realizing Obi-Wan must have taken the newborn from her cooling body, and taken him... to Tatooine. 

_Uncle Owen_. There was of course little reason to think that 'uncle Owen' was Owen Lars, but there was even less to _not_ think it. Luke's Galactic Standard had twanged with the cadences of Huttese, and Tatooine, for as much that it was a hellhole in the hands of the Hutts, was also equally very much on the fringes of Imperial control. The planet wasn't worth it, never had been, never would be, which left it at the mercies of other elements in the galaxy, less savoury ones than the order of the Empire, but also made it very safe to hide a stolen child on it. A Force sensitive child who would very much had been a target of certain imperial attention during mandatory medical check-ups. The thought was fleeting, but stinging. Where before it'd always passed by as a distant necessity of his master's, the possibility that it might have snared and killed (if his master wouldn't have paid more personal attention to a child of Anakin Skywalker and whisked him away...) his son was burning coal.

Also one dismissed. It didn't matter. It hadn't happened. More than that, from what was the actual reality of where Luke had been brought and grown up, if Kenobi's decision had gotten his son sold into slavery--- But it hadn't. It had happened as little as Luke being caught up in the net to find Force sensitive children had. The boy was here on board, clearly free, and surrounded by a gaggle of clones.

(He _almost_ wondered how that had happened, but it wasn't important.)

All he needed now was an opportunity, and then... That was the harder part, of course. His master couldn't know he'd found his child, that he had the boy in his possession. If he did, Luke would either be 'disappeared' or Palpatine would take him for himself. It was only logical; even with his strange method of training, the boy's potential and inherent power was a blue sun, and if Vader had a potential apprentice, his master would know what he planned.

But it should not be impossible to keep the boy hidden long _enough_. Vader had never truly tried to keep secrets from his master, before. It hadn't been necessary - what did he _have_ to hide from his master? Nothing. But the boy...

Darth Vader stilled in his confinement as the door to the cell slid open again after many hours. It was honestly a little awkward to keep proper sight of the child and the three clones gathered around him, since with the cuffs being broken, the interaction between them and the platform that'd kept him floating at a slight angle had ceased. That, much like the distant ache of his legs, was a minor nuisance. He would get a chance to survey the boy from a better vantage point soon enough.

It was a surprise to see the child back here - the escort was less of one - for he hadn't imagined his guardians would let him. To be sure, none of them looked too pleased. Luke himself looked more thoughtful, perhaps a touch eager. For what, was a mystery. Vader could not have endeared himself to the boy so quickly, but the idea that he might feel a connection already, however unknowing, was gratifying. He should tell him, now. Make that potential unknowing bond into a _real_ one.

"I know how to do what you did, now," Luke said, fairly bouncing on his feet, and Darth Vader... said nothing. Not any of the things he'd planned and thought about, though he told himself it was because the clones were there - the fewer who heard the secret, even if they would be dead soon, the better. But mostly he said nothing because the bright earnestness he was faced with took him by as much surprise this time as it had the first. The boy didn't let his silence deter him. "See?"

He closed his eyes, grew still.

Vader felt him before Luke even touched him, but it was only because of the solar brightness of the boy - it was simply impossible for him to _not_ leave eddies in his wake for nearby Force users to pick up on, when he used the Force. The brush, when it came, was deliberate but light, more careful than it needed to be even if he wasn't seeking to force himself past Vader's defenses. Not wishing to reveal anything yet, Vader tapped acknowledgement and then pushed the boy away, firmly.

"You are skilled." His voice rumbled in the cell, only further enhanced by the empty, metal space around them, as small as it was. The weight of his voice was nothing compared to the child's bright pleasure at the brief praise, his grin wide. Good. It was only in the service of starting to create some connection, something that would make the boy more easily turn to him. That was all, but that didn't take away from the fact that the smile seemed to carry shades of familiarity, and that the boy's nose was very much his mother's, and that there was a small mole in a similar spot, if not _exactly_ , to hers--- Firmly, gritting his teeth, Vader pushed those thoughts aside. "You could have shown this from elsewhere in the ship. Do you know no fear, young one?"

_Why_ had Luke chosen to come in here, hypothetical unknown connection or no? Why had his guardians _allowed him_? It was nonsensical, as much as Vader would like to see it as proof of the inevitability of the Force now that he, at least, knew the full truth.

Luke, in turn, scrunched his nose at 'young one', but shrugged, apparently still riding on the praise, even if it came from such a dark source.

"Of course I do," he said, tone dismissive, "but being afraid won't do anything. And I wanted to show you _in person_."

The boy spoke with the easy conviction of a child who'd known few hardships, saying he knew fear but talking fearlessly. Stared boldly up at Darth Vader like he couldn't feel him in the Force, like he didn't know what he was, like he was somehow ignorant why Vader was here on the ship at all. It was strange. Vader wasn't sure he cared for it, for it was a reminder that the child's mother had looked at him like that, _almost_ entirely to the end. He had not deserved it. He did not deserve it now either, though the boy didn't even know it. Nevertheless, Vader had been given the opening he desired, and deserving of such fearless boldness or not, he would take it. All he needed, in the end, was for the child to respect and obey him.

(Killing the clones would not help, of course, but it was unavoidable and Luke would come to accept it.)

"There is far more for you to learn; all you need is a teacher."

The three clones stiffened, eyes narrowing at that proclamation. Echo (the only one who _could_ be Echo, if he was to have survived Lola Sayu at all) and the goateed clone each put a hand on Luke's shoulders, Kix shifted half a step back towards the door. Luke, though, while his lips had been pressed into a thin line, just thrust his chin out.

"And that should be you?"

The challenge in the child's tone was almost amusing.

"I am more than capable of teaching you, young Skywalker." It wasn't, exactly, amusement that coloured the bass rumble out of the vocoder, but to be disbelieved by a mere child like this, though the challenge on its own seemed almost familiar, _was_ in some way indeed amusing. At least for a little bit. "And while what you have already learned is impressive considering the... constraints, you must know it's far from all you _could_ know. You have barely scratched the surface of your potential."

Who else was there to teach him? Who else should have the _right_? Vader clenched his fist. Only he. Luke was _his_ son, and together, they could turn get rid of his master and fulfill the Empire's vision of order.

"I know you could," Luke said, and he wasn't practised enough (probably would never be) to hide the hint of wistfulness in his voice; Darth Vader found no fault in gloating that perhaps this wouldn't be so difficult, that he might have his son want to join his side without even the full truth known between them. Also, perhaps, some small smug pleasure taken from the way the warmly brown hands on Luke's shoulders tightened, the clones clearly picking up on the judgement. Yes, that they'd been able to impart actual, practical use of the Force while not being in possession of it themselves was impressive, but it was probably testament mostly to Luke's potential and skill more than anything else. He needed a _proper_ teacher.

"Luke---" Echo's voice was tense, but Luke wasn't done. He shook his head, glancing up at Echo with a small smile, encouraging in a way that should, surely, belong only to Vader, as the boy's actual father. The thought of the men - Owen, these clones – who'd surely been bestowed it long before he had, and thoughtlessly so, so many times over the years, grated.

"Don't worry, Echo," Luke said as he looked up at Vader again, his young face hardening with determination that stabbed Vader straight into what remained of his heart and memories, mirrored _hers_ , and while what the boy chose to say wasn't anything she'd said, she could just as well have, "I'm not going to have a slaver for a teacher."

Or his mother, for that matter.

Fury descended, black and red and smelling of sulfur. It was an insult not to be borne, and Vader didn't even think as he reached out, mind dark with rage. It took some work to push past the containment field, but nothing was impossible like this, and as metal whined in protest, there were softer, more fleshy sounds of protest in among the metal crumpling.

"I. am. not---!"

Wasted seconds; he was slow where he might otherwise have been swift in his anger, but that slowness was what saved the four outside the containment field. Luke scrabbled for the invisible grip on his neck physically as well as _meta_ physically, and this time, there was no collected finesse about the retaliation.

The child lashed out much like the electro-bomb had hit him yesterday. Vader staggered inside his confines, the containment field sparking and sending buzzing shocks along the armour before he straightened away from the energy field, though he was mostly insulated from the unintentional effects. What he wasn't insulated from was the taste of blood in the back of his mouth, the slow drip of it down to his lips from his nose.

"General!"

Distantly, as sight was still fuzzy as he couldn't immediately see the clones gathering around his son, Vader almost expected hands on his shoulder, present and past mingling with the very familiar call, full of concern. (He would not allow relief that they were alive to inquire about his son's well-being, that _Luke_ was alive, still. He would not. He _could_ not. There should only be some pleasure that the boy was powerful enough to have stopped him. Still, if his hands had been flesh, there might have been a minute tremble to them, quickly dismissed.)

"I'm _fine_! What about--- about you guys?" Luke sounded a little rough, and Vader's sight resolved itself to the boy straightening up, waving he clones off... and taking a step _forward_ , though there was a brief little tremble in his legs, and none of the three clones looked happy. "You're the Emperor's personal enforcer, you were _just yesterday_ on Zerm, protecting the transfer of slaves that were going to Kessel."

The silent implication as Luke glared up at him, bright (pale brown, blue?) eyes flashing, was damning. Lingering fury and relief battled for supremacy and Vader's control over himself. The servos in his hands protested the pressure he was putting on them, and he finally, slowly, eased his closed fists open and grasped his belt instead.

"It... is a regretful necessity I am not in favour of," Vader finally ground out, aching from head to toe despite that said toes were metal, and there was a ghostly thrum of pain in the Force as well - he was impressed, honestly, though it was a brief emotion in the middle of focusing on the actual conversation. The child didn't look impressed with his defense, and Darth Vader bristled.

" _No one_ needs to _own people_ , or abuse them! We---"

"What do you think you are changing, young one?" Tired of this ridiculousness, reminded of what he was here for, what the foolish boy had clearly spent several months by now aiding and abetting, Vader drew cold fury into his tone, turning it into an implacable avalanche of condescension. Luke flinched, but only looked more mulish. "Picking off random transports changes nothing of the underlying structure. You are only causing repairable damage to a very small part of a system which is larger than the Empire, and far older."

Older than any of them, so many lives born into it and lost to it.

(I dreamed I freed all the slaves.)

"It changes things for the slaves we help," Luke snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and his back stiffly straight, and Vader once again thought of something else he'd been told when he was far too innocent to know better. _People don't help each other enough_. Luke, not privy to his thoughts, continued, "And we don't _just_ attack the Empire's slave transports, y'know. We didn't _start_ out here. We started---"

"Luke..." Kix stepped forward, abandoning his position by the door, but Luke shook his head, gaze locked up at the impenetrable and inscrutable death's head mask of Darth Vader, and refused to be silenced, safety be damned.

" _We started_ ," he spat, determination mixing with triumph, but for what, Vader couldn't know, for what the boy had accomplished so far truly _was_ only ephemeral; there would always be more slaves; "with Tatooine, because that's where Kix and a couple of the others had been enslaved, and the Hutts don't rule Tatooine any longer."

Blue. 

Of course the boy's eyes were blue, even if he couldn't see that exact colour with the lenses' filter. (Though perhaps he was mixing that up with the shadow of the nine year old that seemed to be standing beside, behind, _in_ Luke.) Blue and proud and angry, and there was nothing but truth in those words. A truth that echoed something he'd thought he wanted, thought he'd been _capable_ of doing, once. He'd been a foolish, naive child, and yet...

_I dreamed I freed all the slaves._

"That..." Despite the deep timbre of his vocoder, and that it was perfectly functional, his voice rasped out of it, unfiltered like he was still breathing in the burning air of Mustafar with no protection, "is not..."

The vision of Anakin Skywalker, aged nine, star-eyed, determined and full of awed hope that'd be dashed very shortly, flickered and evaporated. Yet the echo of his hopes (dream, merely a dream, but he'd been convinced the Force had been underpinning it) remained, and the boy who _did_ stand in front of him was claiming to unknowingly be following in the footsteps of the wish his father had once held.

"You are foolish, boy," Vader said, not continuing the earlier statement, too vulnerable by far to be allowed to be voiced any further, "how long do you think you'll be able to hold against Hutt retaliation? And the Empire has caught up with you."

Better break the child's idealistic hopes _now_ , for what did he think would happen? With the Hutts looking to Tatooine, with _Darth Vader_ on board? What did he think he could change?

And yet, Luke _had_ changed something, hadn't he? It was impossible to deny that much, and compared to what Vader's mission had been on Zerm... No. Necessary order. That was what it was. It was what his master had called it, when Vader had first found out they were not discouraging the slave operations within former CIS territory. No, instead they'd been expanded, and slowly, the slavery that the Republic had pretended didn't exist, had admitted only existed so far away it could just as well _not have_ existed for them, for it didn't matter to the inner planets and systems, had crept ever inwards.

Necessary.

Rotten corruption of an order his master had claimed would fix the Republic's system and corruption, and the only way to change it would be to remove his master. If he put the boy on the throne and enforced the new order... It's what he'd first thought of, after Luke had revealed his name. It was what still made the most sense, surely. Still, Vader stared down at his unknowing son and as much as he'd like to deny that what he'd been doing for the last couple months, at least, was too small to matter, it certainly... had had more of a lasting effect on a very real number of lives than the struggling Rebellion had had, so far.

"We arm any of the former slaves who can't or won't leave Tatooine and who want to fight," Luke said with a shrug, glancing to the clone with the goatee beside him, then to Echo, and grinned, "they're doing pretty well, last I heard."

"Kicked the hell out of the latest retaliatory attempt _and_ the criminals who thought they could earn some credits and goodwill," Echo agreed, his smile, along with the other two clones', much sharper grins than Luke's more softer one. Darth Vader, already assaulted, was helpless to the trebling echo of a woman's voice while she tucked a thin, worn blanket around small, narrow shoulders.

_Weapons, weapons for those with none  
The desert will hide you,  
in veils to guide you  
A secret, last retreat..._

_But weapons, weapons for those with none  
A hand, a light, a heart  
Kindness before the night's cold start  
For alone, we go nowhere..._

_And weapons, weapons for those with none..._

No.

He shuddered, suppressing the memory, sharp and clear despite age and emotional distance and straightened up, drawing himself together. Below, his son cocked his head, bright eyes narrow now. Unknowing of Vader's turmoil or the reason for it, and yet stabbing it repeatedly; the cause, the enemy, the solution.

"It's more than anyone _else_ has done for Tatooine, isn't it?"


	4. Facing the Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin Skywalker has been a slave...
> 
> has been a Jedi...
> 
> isn't dead?
> 
> What had seemed simple (or at least _simpler_ ) is no longer so, and Luke has to decide what he wants to do with and about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see I've upped the chapter count to one more, so while this would have been the ending chapter, I decided I didn't quite like this as the ending. There might be further continuation in the form of another fic after another chapter, but that's more uncertain. Either way I now have another chapter to write, so unfortunately you'll have to wait for that.
> 
> Little glossary for this chapter:  
>  _Cheeskar goo_! - traitor (cheater) scum – Huttese  
>  _Shabuir_ \- extreme insult - "jerk", but much stronger - Mando'a  
>  _Usenye_! - Go away! (obscene) - Mando'a

Luke was feeling very pleased with himself for pointing that out, and then he glanced away, dialling back the smug triumph with confusion. Why did he care so much? Why make such an effort, when it was _Darth Vader_ he was talking to? He wouldn't care! Least of all about Tatooine, so why did it somehow feel like he'd won a point with his argument? It even felt like more than just a _point_. Groaning loudly, Luke shook his head and threw his hands up in the air and ignored the chuckles from Trench and Echo on each side of him.

"Not like you care 'bout some backwater nowhere plagued by Hutts. Not when you're hunting people freeing slaves. So _why_ do you care how long we'll be able to hold the Hutts off?" Exasperated at himself, Luke shook his head. Frustrated and a little disgusted, Luke flexed his hands and then sighed, letting it all wash off him as much as he could manage. Maybe he'd just... hoped the hulking enforcer of the Emperor's will could be brought around to their point of view? Because if _Darth Vader_ could be convinced, who knew what they could accomplish?

"I do not," Vader said, his voice a dark rumble, dismissive and weighty; yet the pause at the end was obvious, and Luke tried not to shift on his feet, not even certain what he was hoping for. That sense of importance, of _anticipation_ , still lingered like a carbonated buzz in his blood.

"Wasting your manpower on lost causes is unsound strategy, young one." Rebuke, clear as day, and Luke gritted his teeth - one of the hands on his shoulders squeezed it with firm gentleness and Trench shifted subtly forward, taking this response before Luke got the chance to.

"With all due respect," Trench growled, and it was very clear he had nothing but _no respect_ for the dangerous giant in the containment field, which was probably unwise considering he had been able to choke them shortly before, "we know our limits. It might have been the General's idea to push as far as we have, but we aren't indulging in a whim we can't support."

Strangely enough, despite what Luke might have expected (what _anyone_ of them might have expected), from what little he knew of Vader, there was a considering silence in the wake of that response. It was also far more collected than anything that'd come from Vader so far.

"Perhaps," Vader allowed, and Luke picked up on Echo's murmured curse of surprise, which was about what he felt about that, too, "it doesn't change your circumstances."

It was hard to tell where Vader was looking until Luke was pinned under the opaque stare of the mask, _knowing_ he was the sole focus of it. It was heavy and cold and yet - there was a seething undercurrent. Or maybe he was just imagining things.

"As for any further concerns... those will be revealed to young Skywalker _alone_."

Luke shivered, uncertain why, for there was no actual threat in those words, not as could have been expected anyway. The fact that it was said by Darth Vader was pretty threatening on its own, admittedly. Around them, the Force still seemed to hum with anticipation, thick with... something.

"What?"

" _Forget it_!"

Of course Kix, Echo and Trench were all very disapproving of this course of action, and Luke couldn't exactly blame them, but he wasn't any less safe if he was alone in here than if they were all still in here with him. Even if they shoved as many of the people on board that could fit in the cell inside it he wouldn't be any more safe.

"Guys, come on. You can stand right outside?" Turning around to face the three clones, Luke tried to beseech them with some dignity, but the tight expressions on all three faces he looked up at pulled on an urge to stomp his feet and wheedle. As uncomfortable as he was with the idea of being alone with Darth Vader again, he was also wildly curious about whatever it might be that Vader wanted to say to him and _only_ him. "I can handle it!"

"Keeping you _safe_ means we should honestly keep you on the opposite end of the ship from this guy," Echo said, shaking his head, and Luke knew that if he didn't try to salvage this, there'd probably be a clone or two outside his door until they'd done... whatever they were doing with Vader, and he wouldn't get the chance to know whatever it was Vader had to say.

"No, then he shouldn't even have been brought on board," Luke said with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest and he knew he was pouting despite that what he wanted was to glare accusingly.

"Well... he _has_ got a point," Kix said, if reluctantly, and there was a twitch of a smile in the corner of his mouth, one which almost had Luke smiling as well. Trench glowered at Kix, then heaved a sigh and shared a glance with Echo.

"Stand _right_ by the door, you hear me?"

Trying not to grin, Luke nodded. If it'd been Uncle Owen, he would never have agreed to this, but the clones - especially the ones who'd served under his father - were usually a bit more lenient. Even if they probably shouldn't be. Following the three back to the door, Luke slumped against the wall right by the the door release and crossed his arms. From here, Vader didn't look any less inscrutable or intimidating, though he looked a _little_ less unearthly now that the floating mechanism didn't function anymore thanks to the broken cuffs. But the scuffed armour was still an impenetrable wall that half swallowed the scintillating lights of the containment field and half reflected them, turning him into a dark, imperfect mirror.

They stared at each other, but what Vader finally said wasn't what Luke had expected.

"Is freeing slaves the sum total of what you wish to accomplish, young one?"

"We wanna help the rebellion too, but we haven't exactly found 'em yet," Luke said with an easy shrug. Then he frowned, looking up at Vader as he could swear he'd heard something of a static-laced noise, kind of like a snort..?

"You realize who you're confessing such intentions to?"

"You realize Trench has wanted to space you from the start, and he's not really alone in that?" Luke shot back, shaking his head. "I've been arguing we can't do that. It wouldn't be right..."

"It would also be ineffective."

A chill went down Luke's spine, squeezed his breath out of him, as much at the implication as Vader's tone, but he pushed past that. Couldn't help a curious look to the suit covering the man(?). It protected him that well? "He also wanted to fire the lasers at you right after we'd shot you out of the ship."

"... That may have been effective." Vader actually sounded grudgingly impressed, and Luke might have laughed if the situation was different.

Whatever that brief moment of almost-kind of-levity had been, it was gone in the next breath. It was honestly weird. It was like he could _feel_ the air still, the temperature drop a couple degrees (he was sensitive, still, to the cold on ships, and _Domino's Flight_ was actually kept a couple degrees warmer than was standard, so it was even more obvious when the temperature dropped), and Darth Vader shifted slightly on his feet, planting himself more firmly, hands on his belt. Whatever Luke had thought before, he certainly did seem more intimidating again, but he refused to move, or leave. He wanted, perhaps _needed_ to know what it was Vader wanted to tell him.

He finally got his wish, or at least the beginning of it.

"What do you know of your father, Skywalker?"

Luke couldn't read the modulated voice at all, seemingly devoid of any tone, any inflection or weight past the perfect Coruscanti accent. It stood in rather sharp contrast to the intonation Vader had been using before. Then it'd been a voice that, maybe, hadn't told much of anything where Darth Vader came from aside from the fact that it definitely _hadn't_ carried the distinctly clipped sounds of Coruscant, heard in all official news reports on the Holonet. How strange.

"What does that have to do with anything?" He almost pushed away from the wall to stomp closer, on edge and wary, now. Confused too - and reminded of the conversation they'd had during the night. Had Darth Vader had something to do with his father, during the war? In the tumultuous events _after_ , when he would've died..?

" _Answer the question_!"

Jumping at the snarled growl which carried as much force as a roar might have from a lesser man, Luke swallowed, glowering up at Vader. Did he _really_ care what _Darth Vader_ might have to say? About his father or anything else? He'd learned the thing he'd wanted, knew how to do it in no way different from how he usually used the Force. In fact, quite a few things made more sense, now that he knew to reach out and feel for the living things around him. With that, was there really anything _Darth Vader_ could tell him that he might be interested in that the clones who'd served with Anakin Skywalker (like Echo and Kix) couldn't tell him?

Vader had the Force, though. Had he been a Jedi? Might he have known his father _before_ the war, and thus before the clones met his father?

"I know he was a Jedi, and one of the generals during the Clone Wars," Luke finally said, trying for a nonchalant shrug and unsure whether he managed, but forging on, eyes narrowed as he stared up at Vader, "Kix and Echo have told me some stuff he did... about some of the battles they were in with him. That he was a great pilot---"

Here Luke had to grin, almost bouncing on his feet at the reminder. The fact that he didn't just share the Force with his father, but apparently a skill and love of flying, too, sometimes meant even more to him. He continued quickly, however, picking up on a prickling icy pressure of impatience. "And that he was most often in the war together with his former teacher. I always wondered..."

Trailing off, Luke snapped his mouth shut, staring up at Vader. Most of the Jedi fell during and shortly after the the war ended, but it wasn't a secret the Empire abided no potential Jedi, though they were practically myth, now. Telling Darth Vader, the Emperor's personal enforcer, that he harboured the suspicion that the old hermit that used to live pretty close by to them might have been the same person as Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn't smart. Sure, it was kind of silly to think that just because Ben shared a last name with this Jedi Master that they would be the _same person_ , but Kenobi also wasn't a last name usual to Tatooine. It was just... a hunch, and even if Luke didn't have a clue where the hermit had disappeared to since he seemed to have left Tatooine a number of years ago, that didn't mean Vader might not have some way to find him, if they _were_ the same.

"What is it?" Vader growled, but Luke shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. It's got nothing to do with my father, anyway. Kix and Echo thinks my father died sometime during the end of the war, when most other Jedi did. Why'd you even wanna know? What's he to you?"

Vader didn't answer immediately, and though Luke burned to prod him, the weight of the masked stare was almost as heavy as the vice of Vader's will around his throat had been earlier. Rubbing it awkwardly at the reminder, Luke wondered how smart it'd been, to say any of this. To be in here alone with Vader. Sure, he'd been fine so far, but...

"Because your father is not dead, young one."

Cold.

Such a pronouncement ought to have brought stunned excitement, and to be fair, Luke _was_ both stunned and excited, but there was cold, and Vader was a darkly glowing star in front of him.

"What? What'd you mean by _that_!"

One hand left the belt it'd been clutching so far, and it was turned palm up and extended until the fingers stopped just shy of touching the containment field. Energy hummed loudly in response, ready to spark a rebuke against the... beseeching? demanding? gesture.

" _I_ am your father, Luke."

"That's..!"

Truth.

Even before Vader had taught him how to reach for the Force beyond himself, to reach outwards, Luke had quickly learned how to tell when someone was lying. He might be flailing for it now, feeling like his chest was caving in with confusion, with stunned blankness, with a creeping urge to scream that Vader was _lying_ because this man had been sent out to stop what they were trying to do, had choked the whole group of them (had choked him) just earlier, it still came back clear.

It _wasn't_ a lie.

"I can teach you the Force, we can get rid of the Emperor, change the system." Darth Vader's voice filled the cell with a darkly vibrating force, his hand yet held out in offer, but it was less that, or even the reality, that jogged Luke out of staring up at Vader, pale-faced and nauseous. It was the words.

"The system y-you said, was _n-necessary_?" Choking up for entirely mundane reasons, Luke harshly scrubbed his face, trying to hold back the wet burn in his eyes. "I also k-know one more thing about Anakin Skywalker."

Dropping his hands, Luke glared up at Darth Vader, ignoring the way the tears still bubbled up, hovering like a sandstorm cloud on the horizon, hot and angry. "I also know he grew up a _slave_ and I, I knew that, before I knew he was a Jedi. You've been helping a slaver, despite having been a slave yourself? I don't want _anything_ to do with you!"

"Luke---"

" _No_!" Screaming felt good, and Luke whirled around, slapping the door release. "Cheeskar goo!" Spitting that over his shoulder, Luke stormed out - apparently quickly enough he avoided any possibility of (his... _no_ ,) Vader choking him again. The door swooped close behind him, and Luke realized his cheeks were wet at the same time as Trench, Kix and Echo turned towards him, relief turning into alarm on their softly lined faces.

"Luke..?" Echo broke away from the small group standing a couple steps away, but he didn't get more than a step before Luke sniffed loudly and ran off, unable to actually face any of them. 

He ran, not even aware of the blur of corridors, the blur of other clones and the few former slaves he passed, as they hadn't dropped off the people they'd saved from the transport on Zerm just yet. They probably were barely aware of Luke's passing, as quick as he was, since he was unconsciously using the Force to boost his speed and reflexes until the door to his cabin whispered close and he could throw himself onto the bunk.

He flung himself hard enough he managed to bang his head against the wall, but it was such an insignificant, _simple_ sort of hurt, Luke didn't feel it. He did punch the wall though, swallowing the groan as he pulled his aching fist in under him, curling up around it. He missed his aunt and uncle. Maybe he didn't always get along with Uncle Owen, but his uncle wasn't _Darth Vader_. His uncle also definitely hadn't been a Jedi, hadn't been a hero of the Clone Wars, hadn't been an amazing pilot, hadn't been (presumably) deeply in love with his mother...

... Had his father done those things? Been that? Had all of that been a lie _too_?

Feeling like throwing up but unable to make himself get up and find Kix or Echo or... maybe one of the others, who'd (supposedly) served under his father during the Clone Wars - there was one more on the ship, and two more back on Tatooine. The realization that it might all have been _another_ lie was bad enough, the possibility of having to face it as truth was worse.

The door chimed, and Luke laughed wetly into the pillow after startling at the noise. Funny coincidence, but also only to be expected. Just because Aunt Beru wasn't here to check on him when he was distraught didn't mean there was _no one_ to do that. Didn't change that he wasn't sure if he was ready to...

"Luke?" Kix slipped inside, because Luke hadn't _locked the door_. Groaning into the pillow, Luke sniffled, but shifted on the bed so Kix had somewhere to sit down, even if he didn't sit up. It was silent for a short while, with the warmth of Kix's thigh bleeding into his back, solid and _there_. It was honestly reassuring in almost the same way as if it'd been Aunt Beru sitting on the bed, or Uncle Owen. Kix had been with them the longest, had been the first. Maybe that was why Luke finally was able to take a shuddering breath. Letting it out slowly, Luke kept his eyes closed and didn't move.

"Was it a lie?"

"... What?" Kix sounded entirely confused, and Luke, raw and frustrated, still realized he hadn't even explained, so of course Kix was confused. No one else had been there in the cell to hear what Vader had said, and Kix was even less privy to what Luke had just been thinking about.

"... What you've told me, 'bout my father."

"What---" Kix's incredulous exclamation softened into a muffled mutter of cursing, attempting to keep it quiet but really, Luke didn't need the consideration. Wasn't like he hadn't learned cursing in Huttese right quick, and while _most_ of what he knew of Mando'a was entirely practical, Luke had picked up on a swear or two in that muffled litany that he knew. Besides, he was also _fourteen_. Not that his aunt and uncle approved of any of his cursing so... maybe there was a point, but still. They weren't here. " _Why_ would that be a lie?"

"Because..." How was he supposed to explain? Could he say what Vader had revealed..? And if it wasn't a lie, if it was true that Anakin Skywalker had been a Jedi and served in the Clone Wars and that Kix and Echo had belonged to the 501st Legion that his father had commanded... How could he tell Kix that _Darth Vader_ was Anakin Skywalker? He _couldn't_. Not... not like this, not right now. Not like Vader had told him. Besides, regardless of if it was true or not, Anakin Skywalker had grown up a slave, and was now helping slavers. That, still, was a truth as terrible and clear as desert quartz. Groaning, Luke shook his head, rubbing his face into the pillow as he basically yanked on his hair to rub through it.

"Okay, I don't know what that worthless clanker said to you, General, but you realize that's kind of ridiculous?"

What? So baffled, Luke rolled over to stare up at Kix, who was looking down at him with a snowy white eyebrow arched, looking less annoyed and more exasperated. How could he say it was _ridiculous_ , maybe they had a _reason to_ to claim all that---! Luke opened his mouth to protest, but Kix got there before him, patting the bed.

"Come on, sit up."

### 

It'd been a mistake to leave the kid alone with Vader, but done was done. Kix sat quietly while Luke slowly unwound himself and sat up beside him, huddled around his knees and eyes shiny with lingering tears. Whatever had been said had done real damage, and Kix was _almost_ convinced to Trench's argument that spacing the clanker and firing at him was the best course of action. Almost.

"I know Imperial sources are thin nowadays when it comes to the Clone Wars and the Jedi, 'cause of 'security', and there's no Separatist sources left either, really, but there's Huttese ones. We'd have to work a little, but it'd definitely be easier to unearth old Huttese holo news than stuff from the Republic _or_ CIS side of things on the wars." Kix sighed, frowning. It was weird, to have such a huge part of their life be reduced to an empty white spot in the official Imperial history. "It wouldn't actually be hard to prove Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi _and_ one of the Jedi Generals, Luke."

Luke sniffled quietly, then shifted a little closer, until he was leaning just slightly against him. Kix stayed still, but weighed himself a little to the side so he was both taking more of Luke's weight and Luke was feeling more of his. After a couple beats of further silence, Luke sighed. It was soft and small and not with as much explosive energy as Kix would have wanted, but it was something.

"... I guess, that was kinda stupid, huh?" Luke glanced up at him sideways, a flash of brilliant blue past desert-bleached hair that was starting to lose its highlights, if not its actual rich blond colour. It was so familiar it still ached, and Kix could only be thankful he'd only learned of the full extent of the reason for the control chips and the damage they'd caused _afterwards_. Didn't feel particularly thankful for the reason for that being that he ended up in slavery, but... couldn't have every thing.

"Anyone can be thrown off if you're not prepared for the enemy," he said with a shake of his head and a small smile, and saw the twitch in Luke's cheek that meant he'd smiled, at least a little, "so, what did he say that got you thinking like this?"

It was just so out of left field, Kix couldn't think of any reason why Luke would think they'd been lying to him - not just him and Echo and the few others from the 501st, but every other clone who, while they might not have been in their legion, had also known _about_ General Skywalker. And why would this come up in relation to what _Darth Vader_ had wanted to talk to the kid about?

"I don't..." Tightening his arms around his knees, Luke frowned as he shook his head. The look in his face was distant and more concerned than distraught just then, though. Kix frowned, unsure whether that was a good or bad thing. "I don't wanna tell you. Yet."

Ah. Bad thing, then. Because Luke was clearly, for some reason, concerned for the damage whatever he'd been told would do to _Kix_ instead of worrying about himself. This kid... Though, not so much _kid_ any longer, and not really at all from having grown up on Tatooine, even as protected as he'd been.

"Worrying about other's well-being is _my_ prerogative, Luke," Kix said with a frown, finally dropping a hand down on his shoulder and earning himself Luke leaning into the weight of it instead of flinching away from it as he might have done earlier, "and this clearly hurt you."

It was a pity he _couldn't_ really order him to spill; mental injuries were always tricker than physical ones, and even if Luke had been a Commander in the Jedi ranks, he wouldn't have had the authority if the injury hadn't been physical. What he _did_ have was having watched over the kid as he grew up, which probably weighed heavier in the end. That still didn't mean Luke would actually tell him if he didn't want to - sometimes even Beru couldn't get him to talk.

"... Tomorrow?" Luke said after another few moments of silence, the concern lingering but mostly twisting into a scrunched-up expression that mostly spoke of unease. "I don't... wanna think about it right now."

He looked so small and young, which seemed so very improbable when compared to the young man who had (against more than just his aunt and uncle's protests) participated in their raid on Jabba's palace to deal with the slug; with the _nine year old_ who'd pre-empted them all in making a stand against Jabba's thugs and that infernal 'water tax'; with the kind-of-trained, kind-of-Jedi who had been helping them take their cause to the stars in the last few months.

Again, Trench's idea of spacing the shabuir was very tempting... or at least go in there and punch him, if that'd been even remotely possible as a course of action.

"Tomorrow," Kix agreed, squeezing the thin shoulder under his hand, "and then... we probably need to decide what we're doing with our _guest_."

Luke flinched, his expression darkening, then he paled as he bit his lip.

"... Yeah."

What in the ever-loving hells had Vader _told_ the kid?! Pushing the anger away, since it wouldn't exactly help him right now, Kix ran his other hand down his face, rubbing his mouth. Luke needed a distraction.

"What do you say to calling Trench and taking the two fighters out on a spin?"

Luke straightened up, unfolding from his tight curl around himself, scrubbed his face and looked up at Kix fully for the first time since he'd come in here.

" _Yes_!"

Sure, maybe the smile was a little tight, no matter how genuine the pleasure was, and maybe Luke still looked a little pale, but he clearly wanted the distraction as much as Kix wanted to offer it. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything immediately, but they'd keep him busy until dinner, then Echo and he could probably do something for a couple hours after, and then they'd hope Luke would just crash in bed. It'd been a pretty eventful day.

"First, though, I want to check how your throat's doing," Kix said sternly, and Luke's groan was _almost_ entirely genuine as well.

"It's _fine_ , Kix! You don't sound any worse for wear _either_!"

"I checked myself, Echo and Trench while you were in the cell, and now it's your turn. Flying after, hup to, General!"

Luke rolled his eyes and jumped off the bed; only the faint redness around his eyes revealed he'd been crying.

### 

_Luke._

Luke froze, shaken fully from his vague drifting through fitfully dozing, having been unable to easily fall asleep despite that he was tired. 'Tired' didn't really describe the done-deep sensation that weighed him down, and not even the distractions that'd kept him busy the whole day after Kix had checked his throat and cleared him, had apparently helped with being able to let him sleep. Mostly, though, he was unable to believe that---

_You can talk to me like this?! Usenye!_

The connection, now that he was aware of it (realizing it must have come into being when Vader told him who he was) grew chill, dark and cold like a moonless desert night. Luke shivered, pulling his covers more tightly around himself, despite that it wasn't a physical cold. Wondered how to shut it down. Was it possible? Did he want that? Why _wouldn't_ he want that?

_Have you decided what is to be done?_

He knew what Vader meant without him specifying, and despite the brief, sullen urge to give in to petty anger, Luke just rolled over, burying his face in the pillow like that would end this conversation.

_... No. Satisfied? Go **away**._

Silence, but the sensation of Vader close by didn't fade. It was strange; he knew the man wasn't physically close, but the sensation of him in the Force was exactly as when he'd been standing in the cell. Vader was silent for so long Luke started to drift a little, again, and also got the distance to figure out the shape and feel of this connection. Thin like homespun string from well-practised fingers at the spindle, colder than anything he'd ever experienced, yet seething with heat. Dark.

And yet...

Something glimmered at the edge of his awareness, flickering away every time he turned his attention towards it. Luke was so focused on that he literally startled upright in his bed when Vader _did_ speak again.

_Talk to me, and I will not bother you here---_ There was a weird pause at the end, like Vader had wanted to finish the sentence with something but cut off at the last moment. Luke was pretty sure he knew what it was, could _feel it_ in the way the connection seemed to grow thin filaments, multiplying and reaching for him, all disintegrating before they touched. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed. If nothing else, the sensation of Vader withdrew, leaving Luke to stare up at the ceiling, fully as alone as he ought to be when he was in his room and there was no one else in it with him.

Yet, if he paid attention, the connection was there, quiet and undeniable.

Did he want to go? 

Would that change anything? Angrily, Luke turned over in the bed again, pulling the covers over his head. _As if_ it would! Vader--- his fa... Darth Vader had been doing this for fourteen years, why would anything change _now_? Besides, he probably wanted to try and convince Luke to join him and do... whatever it was he might want, however he imagined removing the Emperor would go. Probably in no way Luke would like.

It seemed like lightyears since he woke up with that sense of weird anticipation, since the half-wonder of the possibility of talking _Darth Vader_ around. What had he been thinking?

...

Had anything really changed? Aside from everything, that was. But he _had_ sort of thought he could... maybe, talk Vader around, and what could maybe be changed from that. What about _now_? Unwillingly, slowly, Luke looked inwards again, studying the silent connection to Vader. Intermittently, it flickered with distant light, like a desert ghost. There and gone. What did that mean?

What would it mean, if he _could_ talk Darth Vader, his... his father, around?

Unable to sleep, Luke got up. Pacing his cabin didn't work, so Luke stepped out. Meandered his way to the small mess on board _Domino's Flight_ , smiling faintly at the two Wookiees and lone Twi'lek along with two clones that sat around one of the three tables. He didn't stay, just got a cup of hot chocolate and walked back out again, no particular plan in mind.

Maybe he should go to the bridge...

Instead Luke ended up, cup half drunk but still steaming, in front of Darth Vader's cell door.

He stood there, the hot chocolate slowly cooling, and stared at it. Did he go in? Did he go back to his cabin and tried to sleep again? Luke turned around and walked back and forth twice, the first time even getting as far as the area where all the cabins were before he turned back. The second time he stopped by the door out of the cell block which took up a huge part of the former prison barge.

Walked back and stared at the door in front of him.

The sense of anticipation he'd been plagued with had been real. It had also not felt good _or_ bad. Finally drinking the rest of his now barely luke-warm chocolate, Luke bit his lip. Took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking about someone else who... would care about this, wouldn't she? Two of them, really, but only one of them had known his father as an adult.

_Grandma... Mom... what would you do?_

No answer came, for how could it? His grandmother _and_ mother were both dead, _actually dead_ (he'd gotten to go to her grave when they'd first set off on this idea), compared to... compared to Darth Vader. She had no answer to give. He wished he knew more about her _personally_ , what she'd felt for and thought about his father, about her relationship, about being pregnant. About whatever happened that Anakin Skywalker had slowly become what he was now, for surely she'd seen _something_?

But Luke had nothing of his mother, except for a couple very rare official holos that'd been saved and deemed suitable for the public to still see of Senator Padmé Amidala. They were nice, but they didn't give Luke anything to go by, except to know he had her nose, maybe a bit of her smile, shared a similar location of a mole. Nothing that told him anything personal. But he couldn't believe she hadn't loved him, that there hadn't been _something_ honestly loveable about the man. If there hadn't been, she would not have been with him, would she? If there hadn't been, clones like Kix and Echo wouldn't be talking about him like they'd been. Exhaling, Luke opened his eyes, set his jaw and put the mug down beside the door. 

Then he went into the cell, carrying no other weapons but the fact of his own existence.


End file.
